Adversus Solem Ne Loquito
by Defying.Expectations
Summary: Severus Snape goes back in time with one mission: to kill his younger self. The reason? So Lily Evans can live the life that she deserves. Because if he were dead, if he had never told Lord Voldemort the prophecy, then she would still be alive.
1. Setting Things Right

**A/N: Written for the Gauntlet challenge over at Mugglenet Fan-Fiction. _Adversus Solem Ne Loquito_ is Latin for: _Don't speak against the sun._**

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Had his nightclothes always been this itchy? Damn being poor. Were he richer, he could wear soft, gentle cotton pajamas instead of these thin, scratchy rags. Not that being a young man of the lower class was generally something that bothered Severus Snape; indeed, there were many more things about himself that bothered him more. But waking up with horrible tingling itches all over him was certainly not pleasant, which was why his hazy thoughts were currently directed in that course.

In addition to the terrible scratchy feeling all over his arms and legs, he felt dizzy and somewhat imbalanced. What had happened? Had he consumed too much alcohol again? He didn't remember doing so. Actually, he couldn't remember much of anything about what he had been doing yesterday.

Dazedly reaching over to scratch at one of the itches on his arm, he felt something odd and slightly prickly beneath his fingers. His bed sheets didn't normally feel _prickly_, however old and frayed they were.

Cracking open his weary eyes at long last proved that his bed sheets were not surrounding him. In fact, he was not even in bed, or in his pajamas. He was lying on his back in a grass field. The itchy material had not been his nightclothes, it had been the grass he was surrounded by.

Lifting his delirious head to get a better look around, Severus noticed a knapsack and his wand sitting several feet away from him. He pushed himself into a sitting position and reached over for the bag, pulling it closer to him and rummaging around inside. Inside rested an aged map, an unfamiliar textbook, a switch-blade knife, and a Time-Turner.

He was more perplexed than ever by the contents of the bag. What on earth had he been doing, to have been dashing around in an open field with these things? He sifted through the bag again to see if there was anything else, something that perhaps would give him more of a clue as to what was going on – and there was something else. A single sheet of parchment. He took it out and read it carefully, and immediately everything flooded back to him: how he had gotten here, and why he had come in the first place.

_. . . unfortunately, with every victory comes a defeat. Though You-Know-Who and his reign have ended, and across the world thousands are rejoicing, even in these happy times we must not forget that James and Lily Potter lost their lives the night of You-Know-Who's demise . . ._

It was a small clipping from a newspaper, and even though he had read it already several hundred times, his throat closed up tight upon reading it yet again, his breathing shallowed, his hand clutching the parchment shook.

_No,_ he told himself, putting his left hand over his right to stop the violent tremor. _It doesn't matter what this paper says. If everything goes right, this won't ever have happened. That's why you're here: to set things right._

To set things right. He took a deep breath through his nose, dropping his head to his chest for a moment to rest, to think. He knew how risky this was, Time Traveling. Of course, being himself, he had planned everything meticulously. But still, even one small error, one small slip-up, could destroy the entire course of the future. Was he truly ready to do this?

Yes. Yes, he was. He'd made it this far, hadn't he? Now was the time to act. Lily was not going to die, she was going to make it, she was going to live, she was going to run and skip and laugh and smile and dazzle and love and be everything that he adored about her. And he would not screw it all up for her the second time around. He wouldn't be _around_ to screw it all up.

He was going to kill his past self.

He didn't think of it as suicide, really. Suicide meant killing yourself to end your own pain, to put an end to your own sufferings and sorrows. Which, he supposed, was one way to look at it. But really, he wasn't doing it for himself, he was doing it for her. This was the only way for her to go on living.

That was why he was here, back in March 1969. Long before he had told Voldemort the prophecy that had ended Lily's life, years before they had become friends, months before he had even had the courage to introduce himself to her. In this new future, Lily would never even know him. That was better for them all. She could go on living without him taking away anything from her. She would have the life she deserved. The perfect life fit for a fairy-tale princess, where she would live happily ever after with her prince, just as all fairy-tales went. And he, he would follow his own role of the fairy-tale: he was the villain, and therefore he would suffer a death that no one would care very much about.

With these thoughts in mind, he pushed himself off the ground, swung his bag over his shoulder, and started to stroll towards the town. It was a cool, breezy day, with gentle sunlight peering through the clouds; the soft grass crunched gently under his footsteps as he walked along.

Presently, he reached the town area, and was immediately struck with the thought that his clothes stood out quite a bit compared to the styles of '69. What had he been thinking, wearing such modern Muggle attire? That was the problem, though, he hadn't really been thinking, not about things like that anyway. With a sigh, he ducked into the nearest alleyway and Transfigured his clothes into more traditional garb for the times.

When he reemerged from the tiny street, he nearly stopped short at who was standing on the opposite side of the cobbled road. He collected his wits quickly, and without really pausing to think, he whirled around and dived into the nearest pub behind him.

The place he had ducked inside of looked oddly familiar, for some reason. Could it be the Leaky Cauldron? He hadn't thought that his home was ever that close to the Leaky Cauldron, but perhaps he wasn't as close to Spinner's End as he thought? But he couldn't be too bothered by this now. Weighing heavier on his mind was the fact that _she_ was here, one of the very last people he wanted to see right now.

Severus ordered a Firewhiskey and slumped over a small table near the wall. Might as well settle here for a while, wait until she was gone before he continued on his way.

But what was she doing here? She didn't belong in this time period anymore than he did. True, she was some years his senior, but she was certainly not old enough to have looked exactly as she did in the present back in 1969. She would have been a teenager, not a twenty-something woman.

So why had she come, then? Had she perhaps followed him? But how would she have known what he was doing, how would she have found out? It wasn't as though he had broadcast the fact that he was going to go Time Traveling to all of his fellow (former?) Death Eaters. He hadn't broadcasted it to anyone, in fact.

He suddenly heard clicking footsteps behind him against the wood floor surface, and even before she spoke, he knew it was _her_ who was standing right behind him.

"Well," she said slowly, and he could hear the sneer in her voice, "look what the Kneazle dragged in."

Cringing slightly, he slowly turned around in his seat to face her. "Hello, Bellatrix. What are you doing here?" he asked listlessly, masking his rising panic at her appearance.

"I could ask you the very same," she returned sharply.

"I – I am here on a personal matter that does not concern you in the slightest."

"On the contrary, it concerns me quite a lot," came the swift reply. "I know why you're here, Snape – and that's why I'm here."

Before he could stop it, his brow naturally creased in confusion. "What?"

She sneered, her gaze on him condescending and angry. "Oh, you think you are so _crafty_, so _clever_, so _secretive_," she said, drawling out the adjectives with disgust as though they were something nasty in her mouth. "You think you are so good at concealing yourself, and that no one can see past your little shell." She chuckled then, the sound low and dark, coming deep within her throat.

"You think you have me all figured out?" As he said this, his tone was mocking and sardonic, yet her words had caused his mind to race a little faster. She knew why he had come here? She had come here because of him? Why? It didn't concern her if he wanted to kill his past self – in fact, he would have thought that she would be pleased with the idea. The dislike he felt towards her was most certainly reciprocated on the other end.

"Yes, I think I have you figured out quite well," said Bellatrix, her eyes flashing dangerously, rolling with cold waves of unforgiving gray.

With effort, he repressed the urge to swallow anxiously, and instead got to his feet – he didn't like having her tower over him while he sat at the table. Now he was looking slightly down at her, and though this didn't make him any less nervous or uncomfortable, at least he felt more in control. "So, tell me – why did I come here?"

"For the same reason Lucius is giving millions of Galleons to the Minister, for the same for the same reason MacNair has decided to chop off the heads of animals for a 'noble and good cause', for the same reason Avery and the Carrows and so many others are pleading forgiveness with all the Aurors: you think our lord is gone, and have therefore decided to hide away and pretend like none of it ever happened." The blaze in her eyes intensified; he had never seen her quite so incensed. "Granted, your method is rather unconventional, and it seems a bit extreme to go travel time just to avoid Azkaban, especially since your precious Dumbledore seems very happy to have you sitting on his arm . . . but, to each his own."

She leaned in closer to him. "Well?" she breathed in an angry hiss. "I'm right, aren't I? You're scared of what will happen to you, and so you decided to run away from it all, pretending as though the Dark Lord means nothing to you."

"Of course he meant something to me," he objected quickly. _It's just that another person meant much more._

"Meant? He _meant_ something?" Her volume began to rise in her temper. "_Meant – _as in that was in the _past_? As in he doesn't mean anything to you anymore?"

"I didn't say that, but since he has been killed, it's technically correct to speak in the past tense about the matter – "

"He is not dead!" she spat. "He is not! It is the ones like you who will be shunned from his services when he returns – and those few of us who remained faithful will be rewarded beyond all measure."

"Mmm-hmm, yes, I'm sure." He checked his watch; she was holding him up. True, he did technically have all the time he wanted quite literally in his hands, but he didn't really want to have to Time Travel again. It would be preferable to get things over with now. "So, you followed me because . . ."

"Because I am tired of watching all of those who called themselves 'loyal' run away and hide under rocks!"

"I see. Very interesting. Well, you will have to excuse me, Bellatrix – it might come as a surprise, but I do have better things to occupy my time with than conversing with you." He began to push past her.

"You coward," she threw at him. "Just running away from our lord."

He stopped, looked at her hard. "What did you call me?" he snapped.

"You heard me, Snape, I called you a coward."

"You don't even know," he seethed, "you don't even know what is going on, what I'm doing here – "

"I know plenty well what's going on – you're a spineless git who would rather live in the past than confront his present, living proudly with the fact that he supports the Dark Lord."

Her assessment of the situation was rather off-point, and yet, he still found for some reason that his blood was boiling, his fury mounting. She knew nothing about what he had been through, what he was going through. And yet she still had the nerve to call him a coward. It shouldn't have angered him this much, but his nerves were frayed enough as it was, and so it angered him beyond all real reason.

"Ah," she said, after a reflective pause, her thin lips curving naturally into a smirk. "Have I touched a nerve?"

He forced himself to breath in deeply. He could not let her win this battle of wills, however riled he was by her words. He had something much more important to do than dilly away his time arguing with Bellatrix: he had a past to change, a future to correct.

So, without another word, he pushed past her and towards the door of the pub.

"Don't you walk away from me, Snape!" she called after him, and he could hear her shoes clicking rapidly along behind him, but did not bother to turn around. "Snape! Snape!"

He threw a few coins to the pub owner, and banged out of the bar, turning and striding quickly down the street, ducking into obscure alley after obscure alley.

"Snape!"

He knew he could not out-run her forever. He needed to think, fast. Closing his eyes, he turned half-way around on his heel, and Disapparated.

When he opened his eyes again, he was in another alley, one that he had remembered distantly from his childhood. He leaned against the wall to pause for a moment, listening vaguely to the sounds around him. This, for some reason, was the first place he had thought of. It was a place that he had only been to once: when he was five, his father had taken him to this small but busy street of shops for some 'father-son bonding time', as his mother had so optimistically put it. Right. All he'd had to show for the event when he got home was the jeans he was wearing that'd been ripped beyond repair, and five purple marks on his arm. Bonding time, indeed. But none of that mattered now – he had escaped from Bellatrix (for now), and that was the important thing.

Severus checked his watch. _Damn it._ Bellatrix had delayed him far too long. He was completely off schedule now. He'd had it all planned out: at precisely ten past ten, his younger self had been wandering the streets near that old abandoned park. He remembered this all very well, for earlier that morning, his father had once again lost his temper. This in itself was nothing terribly unusual or upsetting, for it happened quite often. What had been unique about today, however, was that Severus had tried to stand up for himself and his mother. He had tried to defend the both of them using magic that he was only just beginning to understand. This plan, naturally, had backfired horribly; and to escape Tobias Snape's wrath, the young boy had fled the house to walk the streets. So the plan had been to grab his younger self while the nine-year-old was near that old park, go to some deserted alley, and kill him.

However, it was now past eleven, and Severus could not recall where the hell his younger self had been at this time. Swearing under his breath at both himself and Bellatrix, he massaged one temple wearily. What could he do now? He couldn't go back to the present – he'd made it this far, and he didn't intend to back down from his goal for any reason.

Though he knew his young self would eventually go back there, going into his old house did not seem like the best course of action. Severus knew very well that Time Traveling could be extremely dangerous, if not handled properly. How in the world would his parents react if their son showed up twelve years older than he was supposed to be? No, nothing good would come of that. He would have to just wander the streets, not interacting with anyone more than necessary, until he found his younger self.

So, with this vague plan of action in mind, he dragged his despondent feet out of the alley and onto the main street.

The shops looked rather different than he had remembered them, for some reason. In the blurry recollections he still had from the trip he'd made here when he was five, everything had been gray, dirty, and overall very unappealing. Yet here today, with the soft sun rays beaming down on the pavement and the rooftops, and the faint whistle of the wind in his ears, the place seemed much different, almost inviting. The colors of the shops were warm, the people both inside of the stores and outside of them seemed cheerful. Had this little area of town really changed so much within those years between '65 and '69? Or had this place merely looked so bleak at the time because of what had taken place there?

Oddly, the pleasant happiness in the air did nothing to soothe or calm Severus. Rather, it made him more anxious. None of it seemed fitting: how could one place be so different from memory? Little things in the surroundings unsettled him – things that he knew were inconsequential, yet that still bothered him. The squirrel eating a cracker someone had dropped on the side of the road. The sign on the window in large purple letters that declared '_two bracelets for the price of one'_. The bowler hat on the old man's head. The bright red lollipop clutched in the toddler's hand. The initials 'Y.E.R.' engraved on the side of one of the buildings. The brunette woman's laughter at something her husband had just said. It was all so ordinary, and yet it wasn't – not now, not today, not like this.

And then, he saw something that brought him instantly back into focus; that made everything seem fine, that made the entire _world_ seem fine; that made him realize clearly who he was and what he must still do; that made his breath catch in his throat, and the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, and his limbs tingle with happiness, and his heart thud against his chest with mingled longing and grief all at once:

The nine-year-old Lily Evans.


	2. Reading And Escaping

She had just emerged from a shop with little trinkets, grinning over her shoulder at Petunia Evans as she swung her tiny bag of purchases back and forth. Her older sister grinned back, and Mrs. Evans beamed fondly at them both as she strolled along slightly behind them.

It was all he could do to drag his feet into the nearest shop so as not to be seen by them. He positioned himself by the front window to keep an eye on them, watching as the happy family entered another shop across the way.

"Can I help you, sir?"

Severus jumped slightly, glancing around to find that he had scurried into a bookshop. The shop keeper, an old, bent-over man in a gray sweater vest, was standing before him.

Normally, Severus would have been delighted to be inside of a bookstore – Muggle texts or wizard ones, he loved to read anything he could get his hands on. Today, he couldn't have cared less if he had been presented with all the books in the world.

"No, I-I'm fine. Thank you."

The elderly man nodded, and shuffled away. Severus resumed his stance close to the window, his nose nearly touching the pane of glass. He couldn't see the Evanses anymore, due to the slight tints of the windows, and he wasn't sure if this was a positive or negative thing. It was a negative, obviously, because he couldn't see Lily anymore; and yet it was also positive, for she would not be able to see him older than he should be in this time period. He did have to wonder, though: would she even recognize him twelve years older? At this point in her life, she had never met him, but they had passed each other several times on the street and such, since they did live in the same area. But was his face distinctive enough in her mind at this time for her to make the connection? He was curious to find out, but knew that it would be beyond idiotic to test such a thing.

These thoughts led him to think of who the young girl would be over a decade from now. Vibrant. Amazing. Beautiful. And most importantly, _alive_. Alive to see each new rising day, alive to enjoy the world around her, alive to love her husband and son, alive to be the woman he loved beyond anything, beyond life itself.

_And what would she think of all this?_ he thought, vaguely. _What would she think of you dying to save her?_

He hesitated on this thought when a response did not immediately come to him. What would she think? What would her opinion of him be if she knew about this?

But, no, it didn't matter what her opinion would be. She would never know. No one would know. That was how he wanted it.

Still . . . what would she have thought, if she had known? He tried to tell himself that he didn't care what she would have thought, but he did – mostly because he truly didn't _know_ what she would have thought. And this only made him feel all the worse. Some friend he had been, to not even be able to interpret or guess her reaction to the knowledge. Here he had always prided himself in knowing her so well, understanding her better than anyone, loving her more than humanly possible.

He closed his eyes, needing to know her reaction. Slowly, her image floated up before him, and her sweet face was flushed red with something between anger and disappointment.

"_How could you do this, Sev? Killing yourself just to save me? I thought you were more than that, Severus – I didn't think you were a coward. Because whatever has happened to me, you have to keep living your life, you know."_

Yes, that sounded like her: always wanting to bring out the best in people, even him, who was so shrouded in darkness that he could barely see a single shinning star. She would have been upset with him. She would have wanted him to keep living, to not take the 'coward's route'.

But on the other hand . . . it had been his fault that she was gone in the present time. His fault that she was dead. So wouldn't she have blamed him? She had never really forgiven him for calling her Mudblood; their relationship had been reformed after that, but it was certainly never the same. For her to know that he was the reason she no longer breathed . . . would she ever forgive him for that?

Again her face appeared in her mind, but this time, it was not an angered expression. It was one of resentment, of satisfaction: He had gotten what he deserved.

And yet . . . perhaps she would have had neither of these reactions? Perhaps she would have simply not cared, so long as she received the life that was rightfully hers? That she wouldn't have cared at all what happened to him, good or ill, since he had already done so much damage to her?

"Are you sure you do not need any help, sir?"

He whirled around impatiently to find the old man standing behind him again. In some odd way, this man reminded him of Dumbledore: ancient-looking, wrinkled, and constantly interfering with the personal business of others. Of course, the man was not Dumbledore, but Severus couldn't help wondering if perhaps they were distantly related.

"I'm fine, thank you," the young man said stiffly.

"If you're certain," the elderly man replied, attempting to bow his already-hunched back. "It's only that, sir, you have been standing at that window for a good half hour, and I was just wondering if I could be of any assistance . . . are you disappointed with the lack of books in this shop?"

"I – " For the first time since he had entered, Severus glanced around the little bookshop, astonished to find that it wasn't little at all: the store was huge. A narrow, winding staircase escalated high to the ceiling, leading off to not only a second floor, but a third. Most everything seemed to be made of wood – the floor, the walls, the bookcases – excepting, obviously, the books, which seemed to range from flimsy paperbacks to solid leather.

How could this man possibly think his 'lack of books' would disappoint anyone? Any day other than today, Severus could have easily holed himself up in this place for days, perhaps weeks, on end. Today he only felt a slight stirring in his stomach, and it wasn't even one of excitement – it was more just the feeling that this was something his old self would have cherished, and that therefore he should be excited too, even though he was not.

"There are more books, sir," the old man went on kindly. "Perhaps you are interested in something more unique and special?"

"I – erm, yes, thank you." Well, why not? Not knowing where his past self was currently, he didn't have much else to do. Continuing to wait for Lily to reappear wasn't going to do him _or _her any good.

With an astute smile, the old man made a motion with his fingers for Severus to follow him. He then began to shuffle towards the back of the shop.

The elderly male led him deep into the back. When at last reaching the far wall, he pushed carefully on one of the wood panels. A group of the wood panels swung backward immediately – it was a door. Severus never would have realized, they blended in perfectly with the wall.

The door gave way to a small hallway, with several doors on each side. The old man opened one on the left, and then entered. Severus trailed in after him. The room itself looked average enough – a basic square shape, the same wood walls and flooring – yet its contents were what made it stand out. Archaic looking scrolls were strewn across the tables and the floor, some wound up tight, others open.

"Perhaps you can find something of interest in here, sir?" the strange man asked him, smiling slightly. "Or at least more of a distraction?"

Severus looked at him sharply. "What – "

"Sir, do you really think you are the first lost soul to wander into my bookshop?" the man questioned with a slight chuckle.

"Erm – "

"After all," the old man went on, "why do people read books in the first place, hmm?"

He paused, as though waiting for an answer. Severus cleared his throat and responded hesitantly, "Because they enjoy reading?"

"Well, I suppose," the man consented, moving his hand in a 'sort of' gesture. "Yes and no. But what is the main reason?"

Severus, confused and weary to the point of exasperation at this point, could only manage a shrug.

The old man leaned closer to him. "_To escape,"_ he whispered, and then pulled back, smiling again. "I shall let you be, then. Leave whenever you are through." He disappeared through the doorway.

Severus may have been exhausted from all the trials of the day, but he wasn't so tired as to not be a little apprehensive towards this odd little man who seemed to know more than he should. Did the old man know why he was here? Who he was? But that was impossible, Severus had never met this man before in his life. Besides, he was a Muggle. Wasn't he? This _was_ a Muggle village, and a Muggle bookshop. Right?

Sighing, he sank into the hard wooden chair in the center of the room, careful not to step on any of the scrolls as he did so. The old man was not his concern. He didn't matter. What mattered now was finding his younger self and killing him. The old man was not part of the picture: it didn't matter who he was, what he was doing, or how much he did or didn't know about Severus Snape.

Still, these thoughts didn't stop Severus from lifting one of the scrolls on the floor into his lap, and unfolding it to see what was there. It was some ancient, linear script that he could not even begin to decipher. So much for that. Perhaps the 'distraction' was for him to unlock these ancient words?

Suddenly, he heard a noise behind him, and snapped his neck around to see what it was.

He recognized it as the main door to the book shop swinging open. It was followed shortly by a pure, beautiful voice, one that he thought he would never hear again.

"Oh, Tuney, look at all the books!" young Lily exclaimed.

Her voice was higher-pitched than he had recalled – he remembered the lower voice, the one that her tone had deepened to by the time she was a adult. So this was what she had sounded like when they had first met.

"They're books, Lily," came the voice of her older sister, sounding bored, but also amused. "Just books. That's all."

"One day," said Lily cheerfully, not sounding at all put out, "you'll love books too. You'll see."

The sisters continued to squabble lightly. He hadn't ever remembered them being on such good terms. He'd known that they used to get along only from what Lily had told him, but he had never really witnessed it much himself. By that time, Petunia Evans had deemed both he and her sister 'freaks', and didn't want anything much to do with either of them.

Without really thinking about it, he got up from the chair he'd been sitting it. As though in a trance, his feet began to move forward, following the sound of her voice. Down the hall, through the secret door, out among the many shelves of books, looking, listening, waiting . . .

She had stopped talking by this point. The whole shop had gone fairly quiet, in fact. Had she left? No, she couldn't have, he would have heard the door close. He slowly stalked down each of the aisles – why was this shop so damn large? At this rate, she would be gone before he found her.

But then – there she was. Right in the next aisle over, sitting quietly on the ground, completely absorbed in whatever book she had selected. He moved closer to the shelf, so as to peer at her better from between the books. He could have easily stood there for the rest of his life, were it not for the footsteps that he suddenly heard behind him. He spun around.

"I'm sorry," said Bellatrix innocently. "Did I interrupt?"

"What are you doing here? Why do you keep following me?"

"I already told you what I'm doing here, Snape, and if you weren't listening the first time – "

But that was when he saw a flash of gold against Bellatrix's hair. He lunged towards her; she gasped and jumped back in surprise, but by then he had already grabbed a hold of the shimmer: a Time-Turner.

"What is this?" he demanded.

"It's a Time-Turner," she replied coolly, wrenching his fingers away and tucking the item demurely back underneath her shirt.

"I know that!" he shouted, and then, remembering where he was, lowered his voice. "I meant – why did you – how did you – "

"Haven't we already been through this?" Bellatrix sighed, rolling her eyes. "I'm not going to sit back and watch yet another coward run away from the Dark Lord – "

"I still can't believe that you would follow me all the way here just to – "

'Well, believe it," she snapped.

"Why?" he asked. "You don't care about me – "

"Obviously," she said. "That doesn't mean I can't recognize – talent – when I see it."

" – and there are plenty of others who served the Dark Lord who could search with you – "

"Maybe I want you on our side as well," she said irritably.

" – and I just don't see why – "

That was when she pulled out a piece of parchment from her pocket. It was the exact same newspaper clipping from the _Daily Prophet_ that he himself had brought along with him.

_. . . unfortunately, with every victory comes a defeat. Though You-Know-Who and his reign have ended, and across the world thousands are rejoicing, even in these happy times we must not forget that James and Lily Potter lost their lives the night of You-Know-Who's demise . . ._

"Ah, did I cause the great Severus Snape to become momentarily speechless?" she questioned sneeringly, when he could only goggle at the newspaper clipping.

"I . . ." He forced himself to swallow, and then speak. "Why do you – have that?"

"To keep me on track," she said simply. "To remind myself why I'm here and what I must do."

He was about to question this further, when he heard a quiet 'excuse me' from behind. Turning, he saw young Lily standing there, looking up at them with a polite smile, a heavy volume clutched in her delicate hands.

"Sorry," she said, "I just wanted to put this book back and look at another . . ."

Dazedly, he stepped back to allow her to pass. She slipped between him and Bellatrix easily. She was so small at this age – she only came up to a little above his navel. She had always been petite, but her fire and inner-strength had always seemed to make her smaller height inconsequential. Or maybe it was just that he was not used to being so much taller than her.

Lily placed the book back on the shelf with ease, but took a longer time considering which one to read a few pages of next. She kneeled on the floor scanning the titles, occasionally pulling one out to take a closer look, but then placing it back on the shelf. Now that he was paying attention to the books, Severus realized that they were in the biography section.

"Are you two finding any good books?" Lily asked conversationally, as she examined one herself about Charles Darwin.

Severus swallowed again, darting his eyes around the room. He realized that this moment could – quite literally – be the defining moment of the future as he knew it. Were either he or Bellatrix to say something to Lily, and she also might recognize him in his younger self when she met him in later months, and it might change her entire life, thereby changing others as well, and thereby destroying what was currently –

But on the other hand, by not answering her at all, she might think him completely odd, maybe even mental, and maybe then she would try and get assistance, and then they might lock him up and then he would never be able to save her future life –

One wrong action could lead everything to chaos. And yet, nothing would be 'wrong' until something was done. So Severus did what his logical head reasoned was best, under the circumstances.

Then again, it might have been his misshapen heart making all the decisions at this point. This organ, after all, was the one under the true strain. But perhaps it does not matter: the course of action was the same.

"W-we just started looking," he stammered, with a menacing glance to Bellatrix – he didn't want her messing this up anymore than she already had just by being here. She raised her eyebrows at him, but didn't speak. He couldn't tell if she knew that this was the future mother of the 'prophesized child', but decided that it didn't matter.

"Yeah, there's a lot of books," Lily agreed. "I could spend all day in here, but I doubt Mum would let me."

She then smiled at them.

He smiled too, but really all he wanted to do was cry.

Finally, she selected a book, and with a quick 'bye', she was already moving back towards the sitting area.

"What was that about, Snape?" Bellatrix asked quietly, when Lily was out of ear range.

Severus shook his head slowly, forcibly turning his eyes away from the young red-head. "Nothing."

"Right, yes, that was certainly quite a lot of 'nothing'."

"It doesn't matter," said Severus, turning away from her and striding towards the front door of the shop. "I have to get out of here, I've wasted enough time as it is."

"Finally you see sense," Bellatrix mumbled, following him out the door and down the street. "Now we can return to the present and look for the Dark Lord – "

"That's not what – I still have to do something here," he told her, ducking back down the alleyway he had first come.

"Oh, really? Such as?"

"Unfinished business." He had decided to give up on getting rid of Bellatrix. She obviously wasn't going anywhere, but it didn't really matter: perhaps it would be nice to be remembered by at least one person from the present. Besides, as long as he didn't tell her what his plans were, she wouldn't be able to stop him until it was too late.

"I see," she said slowly. "And is this 'unfinished business' something that is going to take a while?"

"If all goes well, hopefully not." Reaching the end of the alley, he peered around the corner of the wall, trying desperately to think of a plan. He still had no idea where his nine-year-old self had wandered off to.

Bellatrix peeked over his shoulder. "What are you looking for?"

He hesitated. "M-myself."

"Yourself? How metaphorical. When did you become lost?"

"No, I mean, I'm looking for – for my past self. This is where I lived as a child. This was my town."

"So you have unfinished business with your younger self?" she questioned, lifting one thin eyebrow.

"Yes."

"After you have completed this business, you will have nothing left to do here in the past?"

"Correct." He would have nothing left to do in the past _or_ present, being dead on both accounts, but decided to leave out that detail.

"And once this is done, you will return with me to the present to help find our lord?"

"Yes," he lied. And why not lie to her about it? He would be dead once she realized he had been untruthful.

She gave him a hard look. "Really?"

He didn't flinch in the slightest, he'd had too much experience with being dishonest at this point. "Yes," he repeated firmly.

Bellatrix nodded. "All right," she said agreeably. "I will help you in the meantime. So, what did you used to look like? Same greasy hair, same ugly nose?" She smirked, taunting him.

He should have known that she would want to jibe him a few more times. No matter how much she wanted him on her side, she still didn't like him any more than she had at the start of this whole little adventure. "I looked the same for the most part, yes."

He started walking again, in the hopes that his moving feet would trigger his brain to move as well; Bellatrix strutted along beside him. He checked his watch: it was now fifteen past twelve. How had the time gone by so quickly?

He tried to think of where his past self had been at this time. At ten past ten, he had been near the deserted neighborhood park. Severus was fairly certain that he would have waited until the evening to return home, so at least he was safe on that front. Still, there were many places he could be wandering. The area wasn't big by any means, but there was certainly a lot of ground for a nine-year-old boy to cover in a day. And so, they walked.


	3. Seeing The Sun

Bellatrix and Severus meandered around town, weaving through alleys, down the river and back, cutting across shopping areas and business buildings: and still, the child Severus was nowhere to be found.

"This is getting ridiculous," Bellatrix announced crossly. She had been unusually quiet for most of their long stroll, as though sensing the importance of the situation, yet it seemed her silent will could only hold out for so long. "Why don't we just head back? This can't be that important."

"No, it's very important," said Severus steadily, glancing inside the window of a bank – perhaps his younger self had considered opening a bank account on this day. Not that he'd ever had much money. "It's the most important thing I've ever done in my life."

She raised her eyebrows at this, waiting for him to elaborate, but he didn't.

They had reached the row of shops where they both had started, the place where the bookshop was.

"We've made the entire loop there and back," Bellatrix complained. "You're not here. Let's go."

"_You_ can go, if you find it all that tedious."

"I don't trust you to keep your word and get back alone. I doubt you even _know_ how to get back."

This was actually true: Severus _didn't_ know how to get back. But since he didn't plan on going back, this was hardly an issue.

"I don't need you tagging along, Bellatrix," he said coolly, "and if you would rather leave right now, then by all means – "

"Oh, look, it's your little friend again," she interrupted with a sly glance in his direction, nodding at something ahead of them.

He followed her gaze to see Lily Evans standing in the doorframe of the book shop, looking around the streets cautiously. As they moved closer, he recognized instantly the expression she wore, having known her for so many years. He recognized how her lower lip was drawn into her upper one, how her hands were gripping the sides of the doorframe so tightly that her knuckles had gone stark white, how her naturally pale skin had been drained of all color, how her eyes were creased at the corners: she was worried. Without thinking, he changed the direction of his feet, and moved towards her. Once he was several feet away from her, he leaned down until he was on her eye-level. She glanced at him, and he saw that her lovely eyes were filled with tears that she was refusing to cry.

"Are you all right?" he asked quietly.

"I . . ." She gave an odd twitching motion with her head, and looked away. Of course: she wasn't supposed to answer a question like that when talking to an adult stranger. Her parents had trained her well in safety. If only it had been enough to save her later in life.

"I can help you," he told her gently.

Her eyes moved back to his face uncertainly, then she made a 'come closer' gesture with her index finger. He leaned towards her, and she put her mouth next to his ear, cupping her hand around her lips to whisper, "You seem nice, but I'm not supposed to talk about things like this with strangers."

"I understand," Severus whispered back. "But I'm not a stranger."

Lily pulled away, and looked up at him, confused. "I know you?"

"Not exactly, no. But my – my relatives live in your neighborhood. The Snapes, down by the end of the river in Spinner's End?"

"Oh." She nodded. "I thought you looked kind of familiar. But you are still sort of a stranger, you know."

"Fair enough, but you do look like you could use some help. You can trust me," he added, wishing it could be entirely true, wishing that she could have always trusted him.

Lily still looked apprehensive, but in a very small voice she said, "I'm lost."

"You're lost?" he echoed. "What happened?"

"I was in the bookstore, reading, and – and I guess I was reading for so long that my sister and mum left the shop without me!" Her lower lip quivered.

"They won't have gotten very far without you," he assured her. "I'm sure that by now they've realized that you're not with them, and are looking for you."

She didn't look comforted. "Sometimes, when we're all shopping together, I skip on ahead of them. They might think that I just went ahead of them. They might not realize that I'm not with them."

"They will soon," he said confidently.

"How do you know?" she asked soberly, her lip trembling.

"Because – because you are a very special person, Lily. And people take notice when you aren't there. When you're gone, it's – " He struggled a moment to come up with an analogy that a nine-year-old would understand. "It's as though there's no sun anymore."

She looked up at him with wide eyes. "But – that doesn't make any sense. We would all die if there was no sun," she said solemnly, with the straight-forward logic only a nine-year-old could have.

His eyes stung. "Exactly," he choked out.

"The whole world isn't going to die because of me," said Lily, still perplexed. "The sun will still be in the sky, and people will still keep living. Right?"

He gave her a pained smile, but couldn't bring himself to answer her question directly, so instead replied, "Your mum and sister won't get far without you. Trust me."

As though on cue, he heard Mrs. Evans' voice call out shrilly: "Lily!"

"Mum!" Lily exclaimed, running past Severus and towards her family. "Tuney!" She threw herself against her mother, and then her sister. "I thought you'd left me behind!"

"We would never do that, sweetie," Mrs. Evans said, smoothing down her youngest daughter's hair as she gave a relieved, overjoyed smile. She then glanced up in Severus' direction. "Did you watch my daughter while she was here, sir?" she asked him, smiling.

"Erm, well – no – it wasn't really – "

"Thank you," said Mrs. Evans sincerely, taking each of her daughters by the hand, and the three females strolled away. Lily turned her head and waved at Severus just before they turned the corner. Severus somehow managed to find control of the muscles in his arms and wave back at her.

"_What_ was that?" Bellatrix demanded.

Severus looked at her blankly. He had completely forgotten she was still there.

"Since when have you been so philosophical and kind?" she went on. "It was rather sickening, to tell you the truth. And I thought you said you had some huge 'unfinished business' to complete with yourself, why the hell are you wasting time talking with little lost children – "

But at that point, he stopped listening to her, for a sight at the very end of the long stretch of cobbled road caught his eye. Without another word he pushed past her, walking quickly and purposefully, soon breaking into a run, not stopping until he reached the end of the street.

There, just mere feet away, was the nine-year-old Severus Tobias Snape. The entire reason he had come here.

The small boy was just shuffling down the road, his back to his older self, but even without facing the boy Severus could see him clearly. His clothes were several sizes too big, his hair lank, his posture slumped.

The rest of the world had fallen away in that moment; the people, the shops, they were all gone. There was only him and this boy. Soon there would be neither. For this was the boy who had ruined his whole life. This was the boy who had ruined _her_ whole life. This was the boy who deserved to die. This was the boy who, today, _would _die.

Severus reached into his satchel, wrapping his fingers tightly around the revered object. Then he pulled it out carefully from the bag: the knife. He flipped the blade open, and, keeping his eyes trained on the boy, began to slowly stalk after him.

"You have got be kidding."

Bellatrix appeared in front of him, standing in his path. She was blocking the boy, she was blocking his goal.

"Move," he growled.

"You cannot be serious," she said in disbelief, her eyes huge, her mouth slightly slack. "You must be joking."

"Move," he said yet again, trying to side-step her, but she blocked him.

"You think I'm going to let you kill yourself? Absolutely not! Snape, without you, we never would have found the prophesized child – "

Again he tried to move around her, again she stopped him.

" – and if we had never found the Potter boy – "

"Then the Dark Lord would still reign," he said quickly, using any logic he could to get her on his side. As long as he could do this, it would not matter what sort of bullshit he fed her, the important thing was completing the task. "He would still be alive. It will be better this way."

"The Dark Lord is not dead!" she proclaimed shrilly, blocking yet another of his maneuvers. "Besides, you won't be able to kill yourself, it isn't possible – we are going to go back to the present, Snape, and we are going to find him, even if I have to drag you – "

He put the knife against her throat. She immediately reached for her wand that was in her pocket; he pressed the knife closer to her flesh warningly, and she froze, terror appearing in her gaze for the first time, as a tiny trickle of blood dripped down her elegant neck.

"Do not," he breathed harshly, "try and stop me from doing this."

He took the knife away from her skin, and took off running after his younger self: she had delayed him again, now the young Severus was only a spot on the horizon. No matter, he would get there still.

They say that in your last moments of living, your life flashes before your eyes. For Severus, as he ran towards his younger self, this was only somewhat the case. Instead of seeing his past twenty-one years in review, only one image was playing before his eyes: and that image was a sun, continually rising and setting, rising and setting, rising and setting, over and over and over again.

"_When you're gone,"_ he'd told the young Lily, "_it's as though there's no sun anymore."_

And that, naturally, why he was here: to bring the sun back. And to have the others around her be able to bask in it.

"_But that doesn't make any sense,"_ she'd replied. "_We would all die if there was no sun."_

"_Exactly."_

"_The whole world isn't going to die because of me. The sun will still be in the sky, and people will still keep living. Right?_

"_Right?"_

No, she wasn't right. She was wrong. She didn't know, didn't understand.

And yet, he found himself looking up at the sun currently in the sky. True, it was hidden behind clouds, and true, it was faint . . . but it was still there. And people were still living.

"_Right?"_

But she wasn't still living. Not in the current future. She wasn't still living. That was what he was here to change.

"_Right?_

"_The whole world isn't going to die because of me."_

"No, it's not, Lily," he whispered aloud. "But I did."

"_The sun will still be in the sky."_

"But I can't see it," he told her voice defiantly, as though needing to prove that all of his reasons were still justified, as though needing to prove that she was entirely wrong.

"_And people will still keep living."_

"I can't live without you."

"_Right?"_

"No!"

He stopped running, and put a hand over his face, trying to both get her young voice out of his head and set his priorities straight again. She had confused them all. She had confused his very reason for being here. He needed time to think everything through, but there was no time. He was here in the present – that is to say, he was presently here in the past – and it was doubtful he would be able to come again. Now was the time.

"_Right?"_

Suddenly, he was knocked off his feet, his body hitting the pavement hard. Cringing, he tried to get up, but found himself bound by invisible ropes.

Several seconds later, Bellatrix appeared over him. With a flick of her wand, she raised him to his feet again, but didn't remove the ropes.

"You do realize, Snape," she said slowly, "that whatever you do here in the past has already happened in the present, don't you?"

"Wh – what?" he gasped out, winded from being knocked to the ground and from all his confused thoughts.

"What we do here today doesn't change anything," she informed him brusquely. "It's already happened in the future."

"But – we can change it – "

She shook her head in an exasperated manner. "For someone so intelligent, you can be rather thick. Didn't you ever learn anything about Time Travel? You are still alive in the present. If you weren't, you wouldn't have been able to come here today."

"But – "

"There's no 'but's to it! And if it really makes you feel better, you can argue with me all you want. But that's not going to change it. So, sure, by all means, go try and kill your past self to change whatever the hell it is you're so desperate to change about the present. It won't work. You're going to be alive in the present. The things we have done here today have all happened before, whether you were aware of it back then or not."

And though he did not want to believe her, he knew that she was right. His whole mission had been pointless from the start, and had he really taken the time to think it through before stealing this Time-Turner, he might have realized that.

After considering him for a long moment, Bellatrix seemed to comprehend that all the fight had been drained out of him, for she waved her wand and removed his bindings. "Come," she said simply, and began walking down a narrow path, back towards the shops. Defeated, seeing no alternatives, he followed her.

"What happened in the present that you were so desperate to change, anyway?" Bellatrix questioned curiously as they strolled along, chancing a side-long glance at him. "What did you do when you were younger that was so terrible?"

Severus didn't answer, couldn't answer.

There was a pause, and then Bellatrix asked, "It didn't have anything to do with that little girl, did it?"

Silence.

"She looked a bit familiar, but I couldn't place her." She glanced at him again. "I think it _does_ have to do with her, doesn't it?"

He made no reply.

"Well, all right. I'll just draw my own conclusions about this whole situation, then," Bellatrix finished.

The two entered a tiny pub. It was a shifty sort of place, clouded with thick smoke and smelling heavily of alcohol. Severus wasn't exactly sure why Bellatrix was taking him here, but he wasn't about to object to some strong beer. But it seemed she had other plans in mind, for she pushed him towards the front counter where the grubby barman was, and leaned towards him to hiss in his ear, "Say 'adversus solem ne loquito'."

He only looked at her. Was this some sort of joke?

"Just do it," she said peevishly.

Yet he had nothing to lose at this point, seeing as he had failed Lily so miserably, so why not make a fool of himself? So he turned to the pub owner, who was watching him with sleepy, half-lidded eyes, and told him, "Adversus solem ne loquito."

The barman only eyed him for a minute, then he reached beneath the counter and pulled out a small wooden box. "Two turns should do it," he muttered, and pressed it into the other man's hands.

Severus looked down at the box, and half-heartedly flipped it over.

"Not the box itself, you nit-wit," Bellatrix murmured. "The knob on the back."

He glanced at the back, and sure enough, there was a little gold piece sticking out. It was a music box, he realized dimly. So he gave the little handle two turns, and waited, but nothing happened.

"Open it," the barman growled.

Severus flicked the simple latch and opened the box. Immediately, everything around he and Bellatrix began swirling in a violent fit of colors and movements. Both Death Eaters instinctively pressed closer together, holding onto the box tightly. Music began to emit from the container, but it was as though through bad reception: the notes were disjointed, and the volume would go rapidly from extremely loud to barely traceable. Inside of the music box, where there was usually a twirling figurine of some sort, there was a sun that would repeatedly rise and set, in a blur of swirling yellows and oranges.

And it was just then that Severus realized that the phrase 'adversus solem ne loquito' was Latin, and in English it meant 'don't speak against the sun'. Which was basically another way of saying that you should not waste your time trying to change the obvious, trying to change what already was.

He also realized that the barman had also been the man in the bookstore: although he had changed his attire, the face was quite the same. He'd thought there was something funny about him.

Abruptly, everything came to a halt. The pigments stopped spinning, the world came back into focus. He and Bellatrix were standing in the same little pub, standing much closer to one another than they would have under normal circumstances, each holding the now-silent music box in death-grips. The pub itself was completely empty, it seemed to have been abandoned.

They stepped away from each other, he still holding the music box. Carefully, still trying to wrap his mind around all that had happened within the past few hours, he closed the music box, and placed it under the bar counter. Perhaps one day the strange old man would return for it. Or perhaps not. Either way, it didn't seem right to walk away and keep the object.

"Snape?"

He jumped, startled. Bellatrix stood off to his left, watching him closely.

"You were just – staring," she explained haltingly. "You weren't moving at all. I just . . ." She didn't complete her thought.

"I didn't do it," he whispered hollowly, barely hearing her.

"You couldn't have done it," she replied flatly. "It simply isn't possible to travel back in time and kill yourself. You were already alive in the present, even if I had let you go run after yourself, something else would have prevented you – it just doesn't work like that – "

"I failed," he murmured, and as the true enormity of what he had failed to do settled in, he sank to his knees on the hard wood floor, cradling his head in his hands. Never again would Lily live, never again would she walk, never again would she speak or be among the living; she was gone, unfairly dead. And he, who deserved death, was still here, still alive and breathing, yet so buried in despair that he was only barely clinging to life . . .

He knew that Bellatrix was right, about not being able to kill his past self, but that didn't make his actions any worse. It was still his fault that Lily was not alive, still his fault, all his fault that the sun was gone.

"Come on," said Bellatrix's voice from somewhere above him. "Get up." She took his shoulder and shook it slightly. He didn't move.

"Oh, come on, get up, you can do it." She shook him a little harder, but he still gave no response.

There was a rustle of clothing, and then she was on his eye-level, kneeling on the ground. She looked uncharacteristically normal just then: positioned on the ground; in her Muggle attire from the sixties; her skirt spread around her knees; an expression somewhere between exasperation, annoyance, and pity on her face. Or perhaps he was just so depressed that it looked to him like that. His perspective of the world was a bit off-kilter at that point.

"Come on," she said again, looking at him intently. "The sun's still in the sky, just like your little friend said. So let's go out and see it."

He shook his head blindly. "It's gone . . ."

"No, it's not," she said firmly. "It's still there. No matter what else, it's going to rise every morning, and set every night."

"It's not the same," he sussurated.

"On the contrary, it's the same every day."

He shook his head, weakly.

"Look," she said, "whether you are glad of the fact or not, Severus, you are still alive."

It was the first time she had ever called him by his first name. It would also be the last. Still, the fact that she had said his given name aloud jarred him slightly.

"So come on," she repeated. "Let's go see the sun."

She stood up, pulled the Time-Turner up and over her head, and then threw it to the floor. The tiny hourglass shattered to a thousand pieces, the sand spilling along the cracks of the floor. She then looked down at him, waiting.

His heart was still heavy, but a part of him did know that she was right. So, he dragged himself to his feet, and together they walked out, ready to try and see the sun.

_-Fin_

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**A/N: I just wanted to give a huge thank you to everyone who has read this story (over 600 hits for the first two chapters, I'm truly stunned). And double thank you to everyone who left a review(s), they truly mean a lot to me, especially for this story, because it's a little darker than I'm used to. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it, and it would make my day if you would leave me a review and let me know your thoughts.**


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